


The Little Lord

by alia_lee



Series: The Little Lord [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Dumbledore, Bad Weasley Family, Dark Harry, F/F, F/M, Good Death Eaters, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alia_lee/pseuds/alia_lee
Summary: Just four years after the death of Lily and James Potter, their only son and the savior of the wizarding world disappears without a trace. Now six years later a new batch of first years are entering into Hogwarts and with them a mysterious little boy with killing curse green eyes. With a mysterious past and a pension for sass the little lord takes on Hogwarts and all of the little ploys his new headmaster has up his sleeves.





	1. The Savior

            The clock in the corner of the manor ticked and rang out eleven times signifying the late hour. Three figures stood in the barely lit entrance way as the doors were opened and several cloaked men and woman stepped through. In one of the first to enters hands was an incredibly small bundle wrapped up in blankets and startlingly quiet despite the bright killing curse eyes blinking toward them. A mass of tight raven colored ringlets poked out from the matted and threadbare blanket wrapped as properly around the little bundle as possible. Dirt and dust was smattered around the little boys gaunt and shallow cheeks and his lip had a shallow cut along the bottom corner. One eye was a tad swollen and yellowing around the edges of a fading bruise.

            “Whatever have you done to the boy?!”       

            The group is startled as the dirty blonde haired woman standing before them hurries across the room and plucks the little thing from their leader’s arms. Of course the dark haired Nott didn’t respond to the rather rude treatment he received because his own thoughts would have been to do nearly the same thing if the situation was reversed.

            “He was like this when we found him Narcissa.”

            The lighter haired Black sister is joined by her sibling whose mass of black curls are tied neatly back into a bun for the moment. After her short stint in Azkaban and the resulting treatments from mind healers she had been progressively getting to become more and more sane and the first to change had been her ragged appearance. Her time spent at Malfoy manner after her release had seemingly done her a great deal of good. The imperious curse had incredibly powerful and lasting effects when it was used as long as it had been on the willful minds of the Black family.

            “Poor babe…can’t possibly be five years old being that tiny can he Cissy?”

            A smooth oval shaped nail runs around a gaunt cheek and the babe looks up in surprise and fear but not a sound escaped his lips at the touch. The dirt and curls did little to hide the nasty looking scar that ran along his forehead marking him for who he truly was. Somehow it didn’t mean as much after glancing at the poor shape the boy was in.

            “Dying would have been a better life than this.”

            “Perhaps we should call Severus. He’s better with these things.” Lucius steps up and studies the young face of the boy intently. His features are more sharp than the rounded jawline and nose of the Potter family and his magic sounder and more powerful despite his young age and malnourished appearance. “He’s a powerful child. I would venture a guess that his magical core has been sustaining him all this time.”

            “He’s only five yet he’s a small as Draco was when he was just two Luc.” Narcissa’s blue eyes seem a tad watery as her sibling pulls the little thing into her arms and makes small sparks flutter out of the tip of her wand. The boy’s bright eyes follow the sparks in awe and his fingers reach out in intrigue to try and catch them. When they disappear from view his little eyebrows furrow in sadness before rise in curiosity. With a look of determination his little fingers poke at the air until tiny blue and white sparks tip off of his fingertips surprising those around him that were still paying attention to the child.

            Those that were not paying attention turned their gazes toward the pair as a delighted cackle flutters out of the once crazed Black sister. A delightful praise leaves her lips and the little boy giggles softly in her arms making the sparks appear once more. “Oh how wonderful. Good job!” The little boy claps excitedly and surprises himself when a fuller and more bright set of sparks is released from his fingertips. A few lights flicker in the room before returning to the dull glow they had been set at.

            “Oh my, he’s quite a powerful young man.” The wild haired woman runs a finger through the little boy’s black curls and coos quietly down at him when the boy glances up at her in surprise. It felt to her almost as if the boy was surprised that someone touching him could do so without it hurting. It made something ache in her usually unmoved heart. The imperius had done damage to her emotional control and her sympathies were usually the most vacant. She wanted nothing more than to hide this quietly little boy away and show him the childhood they had growing up; one of love and enjoyment rather than sadness and pain.

            “We’re keeping him.”


	2. Goodbyes

            Several group of people shuffle around from platform to platform trying to find their trains while he stands quietly alongside his mother staring up at the platform. “Now, you’ve got everything right? We haven’t forgotten anything at the house?” His mother goes through her list thoughtfully one more time because they both knew she could be a bit forgetful.

            “You can always owl it to me right?”

            His mother kneels down and cups his rounded cheeks lovingly. He’d seen the woman mad and angry before but never at him. She’d given him more love in the six years he’d been with her than he ever could have wished to have when he was five years old. He’d only spent four years with that whale of a man and his equally as large son and skinny twig of a wife. Somehow the memories still happened to wake him up late at night. Still even with a family of just the two of them and people sneering at his mother when they walked down the street calling her a multitude of names, he could not have been happier than he was with his mother.

            “Of course my little lord. Mommy will owl you anything you could possibly need.” Her fingers run through the shoulder length mass of curls that feel around his chubby cheeks. She’d always helped him keep his curls tame since they had much the same hair. She loved playing with his hair. “I’m only ever an owl or mirror call away.” 

            “I’m going to miss you mum.”

            He dives into his mother’s chest and hugs her as tightly as he possibly could. He knew that he was going to miss their quiet little home in the country side. He’d miss laying in the library reading over books while his mother went about her Sunday morning cleaning the house.

            “I’m going to miss you too my little lord.” His mother pulls away from him and fixes at his collar until it looks neat and presentable. “Now hurry on to the platform alright. Your luggage is already on the train. Find little Dray and the two of you will find a compartment. Be good this year.”

            The little boy nods determinedly and shuffles away from his mother who is straightening to her full height once more. His mother really was a lovely woman. Her glassy blue eyes and striking black hair were enough to draw eye to her and yet her alluringly strong disposition made people want to be seen with her despite her past mistakes. She was powerful and her magic radiated from her even when it was under control.

            “I’ll see you at Yule darling.”

            With a smile and a quick nod, he controls his features like he’d been taught to his entire life, pulling on his pureblood mask of indifference, and shuffles through the platform as his mother apparates away out of the sight of the muggles.

            The platform is crowded with people saying their goodbyes and last minute warnings of children of all ages. Some had moist eyes and some looked relieve to be free of their children for one more year and resigned to the quiet of an empty home. Almost instantly the little boy could tell which few were pureblood brought up and which were not because they stood quietly with their parents in a startlingly appropriate way. Younger ones gave quick hugs goodbye and older ones offered a few parting words before leaving quickly to the train to board.

            It was surprisingly easy to find the shockingly blonde hair of his closest friend since the age of five. Dray is standing in front of his father with his mother leaning down to fix his collar and tuck a stray piece of his hair back into place. The action was not unlike what his own mother had done to him just a few moments before.

            “Hello dear, have you got everything you need?”

            “Yes Uncle Luc. Hello Dray, Aunt Cissy.”

            The blonde woman brushes a light hand over his cheek to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear as Lucius places the hand not on Dray’s shoulder onto his head. “Enjoy yourselves boys and study hard! We’re expecting good things from both of you.” Lucius smiles softly down at the two and really it is more of a small twitch of the lips but they saw it for what it was behind the pureblood mask.

            “We will father. Not to worry!”

            Dray latches onto his hand and tugs him toward the train while waving excitedly back at his parents who are watching on in trepidation. The train is larger than it appears and there are students milling about excitedly talking with one another and trying desperately to find good seats before the train departs. By some stroke of luck, the pair of them end up finding an empty compartment near the back of the train and settling in alongside one another with their uniforms and wands.

            Draco’s head of shimmering blonde locks finds itself on his lap after a few moments of getting comfortable and with a sense of quiet ease his fingers move through the silken tresses. “Father says that you can see the squid from the windows in the dungeons. Mother says she’ll send along extra blankets if it becomes too cold.” The mass on the platform is thinning out as more students board the train and their parents apparate away. Part of him wonders if his birth parents felt the same way as him when they first rode on the massive train. Surely they would have, his mother said they would have.

            “Do you think we’ll both be sorted there, in Slytherin I mean?”

            “Of course! You’re a Black and I’m a Malfoy. We’ve always been in Slytherin.”

            “Will they be upset if we’re not?”

            “I would think not.” Dray looks up at him with something resembling curiosity in his vivid blue eyes. They had always had a way of calming him. He had the very same vivid blue eyes of his mother and the majority of the Black children. It was the one part of him that was not entirely Malfoy. It made him different from his father in some way. “What has you worried?”

            “Mother says both of my parents were in Gryffindor.” The blue eyed boy closes his eyes in content as fingers run through his hair once more. Their cabin was rather quiet as most students had not reach the majority of the compartments in the back and the older years knew most pureblood children knew to take those seats first. At least that was what his mother had told him. “Even my god father was, the first Black to be a Gryffindor apparently.”

            “Hmm.”

            They both fall silent even if they did not come to a verbal conclusion. They’d known one another for so long that it was hardly a matter of verbalization any longer. Their eyes both turn toward the door as a knock sounds on it and a bushy haired girl peeks her head in.

            “Um sorry for interrupting but you wouldn’t have happened to see a toad?” They share an amazed glance at such an incredibly odd statement but then again most muggle born must already feel they are in dream land getting on a magical train to go to a magical school. “You see Neville seemed to have lost his.”

            “No, I’m sorry. It doesn’t seem as though we have.”

            “We’ll be sure to find you if we happen upon it.”

            The bushy haired girl with a smattering of freckles dotting her tanned cheekbones nods with a bright little grin. Her curls bounce with the movement and she holds her hand out in a very muggle fashion. She must be a muggle born witch or a half-blood then.

            “I’m Hermione Granger, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

            Both boys offer polite smiles and shake her hand lightly. “I’m Draco Malfoy and this is Harion Black. It’s nice to meet you as well.” He can feel his cheeks lift at the shy way the girl tries to memorize their names. She seemed incredibly intelligent and witty despite having a certain tone about her voice that proved she knew that she knew more than others.

            “You can call me Harry.”


	3. The Snakepit

            The welcome feast was already a boisterous affair when they were walked single file into the great hall. Countless eyes raked over them and it felt as if some were weighing and measuring each little first year student to decide where they would go. There was a gaggle of red headed boys on one end of the room at the Gryffindor table and it appeared as if another member of that gaggled was joining them this year as well because a pair of twins were taunting him loudly as they passed by. The Slytherin table sat at the other end of the massive room. There were several children of affluent families that he knew at least a little and their gaze swept over each children in interest. Once their eyes reach him most pause for the briefest of moments and then continue on. Their eyes pause once more at Dray before continuing on down the line.

            The sorting hat is introduced to them and then the little girl in front of him is called up and very quickly sorted into Hufflepuff. “Harion Black!” He steps agilely up to the chair where the sorting hat and the little girl before him had sat. The eyes of the professors bore holes into him as he takes a seat quietly and takes in the entirety of the crowd. The hat falls on his head and his eyes widen the smallest fraction as it begins to speak to him inside his mind.

            _Ah very interesting indeed. I get to sit upon the head of the Lord of Houses Potter and Black. Now where to put you. You’ve got bravery aplenty comes from those parents of your but you’re not quite reckless enough for the lions. You’ll be a bright young wizard, very powerful indeed. I can see here that you learn quickly and have a strong sense of practical use for magic. Not too bookish though._

            He does not really want to admit how much weight came off his shoulders at the thought that he wouldn’t be a good fit in Gryffindor. On the train he had wondered if his birth parents would be disappointed if he didn’t follow in their footsteps to Gryffindor but the thought had quickly been pushed aside in favor of concentrating on the game of exploding snap Dray had tucked into his robe pockets for the train ride.

_You are a cunning little boy. You’re quiet but very attentive. I can see you’re loyal and fiercely protective especially over family. You’ve learned a lot from your mother haven’t you? Wary of outsiders and resilient._

            It seemed as if students were holding their breath the longer he sat while the hat made its decision. He was becoming uneasy with the length of time as well having thought the hat would choose just as instantly for him as it had the girl before. 

_I see a great many things in your future. I know just where to place you,_ “SLYTHERIN!”

 

~~XxX~~

 

            The next morning, he was not surprised to feel tiny wisps of blonde hair brushing against his cheekbones as he came to his sense. Draco had made it a habit to share the same bed since they were five years old, especially when it was cold outside. Last night it had been a bit chilly in the dungeons and most of the boys had been asleep when Draco had climbs lithely into his bed and wrapped his longer limbs around him in a tight hold. Harry, as Draco knew, was very tiny for a boy his age, a result of prolonged malnourishment as a baby. Due to his size, Harry grew cold very easily and often had charmed blankets and sweaters with him wherever he went. Draco had taken it upon himself to be a human heater for his younger friend whenever he got the chance.

            Waking up as so had eased the feeling of homesickness the little eleven-year-old boy felt upon waking up that morning. Breakfast had not yet fully reached its peak when they finally found their way to the great hall. Harry had been excited to have been able to write a letter for sending before they were sent off to beds for the night. He knew his mother would be happy to hear from him so soon. His leaving certainly would be detrimental to him mothers mental state for a few weeks but he knew she was strong enough and their bond formed enough that they would be able to survive.

            Harry was a smart child. He excelled in any subject his mother thought fit to teach him. He grasped concepts with ease and had a natural affinity for magic that made his mother grin in pride at every turn. He had always enjoyed learning; the one thing he was denied as a child before living with her. Despite his natural love for reading and learning he was never a child that had ceased to wonder on things. Book were not the entirety of the world as some children like him thought. There were still parts of the magical world that ceased to amazes him at every turn and perhaps that was where he differed from the others.

            Seeing his first wand react to him, watching the magic of his mother’s wand dance around the library rearranging shelves, mixing potions, and watching his mother deconstruct spell work with finessed skills are only a few simple things that amazed him in his short life. Watching the hundreds of owls fly into the great hall during his first breakfast was just another thing to add to the list. There were so many they created a cover over the artificial sun before descending down to the tables. In their beaks held parcels and packages of all kinds.

            Draco’s eagle owl reached the table with precision followed closely by the snowy white owl his mother had bought him just days before when they were shopping for the last of his things. He had named the pristine female Hedwig. Clutched in her talons is a piece of parchment sealed with the colorless black wax of the Black family.

            _Harion,_

_My little lord, I am so proud to hear you’ve been placed in Slytherin. I knew no other house would suit you. You’re far too forward thinking and cunning to be placed anywhere else. You will do well there; I know it. Enjoy your time spent there. Makes friends and be a child. You deserve happiness my darling little lord._

_The house is frighteningly quite without you running about. I am counting the minutes until Yule when it will be filled with sound once more. I send you all my love._

_Mom_

            He could read fairly clearly between the lines of his mother’s letter through years of practice reading her words. They balanced one another. Despite being mother and child for all intents and purposes they understood the harsh reality of mental trauma. His mother had been uncharacteristically aware of every thought and feeling that went through his mind whenever he’d get in his mood and as he grew to understand his trauma he understood hers as well.

            “How is your mother doing Harry?”

            Harry had not noticed that everyone had long put away their letters and begun eating their breakfast. Draco seemed worried for a moment before raising a silent silver brow in question. Harry knew that it would be difficult knowing who he was initially born as and how the professors must have expected him to be here this year. He knew that he also had several looks on his back already with being an unexpected arrival. “Mother is fairing I suppose. She says the house is quiet, frighteningly so she says.” The thought alone brings a small smile to his lips. To others it may seem as it the phrase was oddly out of place but to him it meant she was faring well.

            “Mother had the same opinion. Say the peacocks miss me.”

            Harry nearly spits his pumpkin juice out of his mouth in laughter at the grumble Draco gives about the bloody peacocks. The Malfoys were well known for own a multitude of prized peacocks. Those very same peacocks wreaked havoc chasing around the young heir whenever he so much as stepped near their vicinity. “Bloody hell those things still chase you? Mother would have them put down.” Pansy sniffs daintily toward Draco who merely glowers in her direction.

            “Then were would Uncle Luc and Aunt Cissa get their fun?”

            Harry wheezes out a pained laugh when Draco elbows him harshly in the ribs and turns his nose up at the whole lot of them. “If you must know, Mother and father have their fun like normal parents must. They do not enjoy those beast chasing their heir!” Harry laughs again when Draco daintily picks up a piece of toast and curls his lips in a disgusted sneer toward Pansy and Blaise. Theo was a bit further down the table making eyes as a certain bushy haired Gryffindor. That was no surprise really.

            “Got a crush there Theo?”

            “Bugger off Parkinson…heard she’s smart is all. And in need of a friend.” Theo grins cheekily before wiggling an eyebrow down the table at Pansy. For what it is worth Pansy doesn’t actually through her cup at the boy like she pretends to and instead curls a lip at him disgustedly. “What?”

            “You’re a pig Nott.” Pansy sips her drink while Blaise agrees with a hum. Theo frowns before pushing Blaise sharply. “It’s the truth. Besides mother said not to associate with mudbloods. They’ll only tarnish more of the traditions.”

            The others look down knowing what she said could not be denied but that it was not always true either. These topics were hard to put a firm opinion on especially at such a young age. Harry knew better than anyone what muggles could do if left with the knowledge that wizards existed. The muggles world and the wizarding world were entirely different concepts and his mother had told him enough stories of both worlds to leave him feeling decidedly confused on the matter.

            “Yes well, we should keep that word to a minimum of the dungeons only Miss Parkinson lest we lose precious house points.” The first years freeze at the calm drawl from behind them. Snape was an intimidating man in his own right; even to the kids of his own house. He was tall, foreboding, and frightfully blunt. Harry almost admired him for that. Of course most students rarely saw him outside of school where he had to brew potions so constantly his hair became a greased over mess. Outside of the school year his hair became more manageable, better. “Now, here are your time tables. The prefects will lead you to your classes today but pay attentions they will only do so today and tomorrow.”


	4. Lord Black

            Their first week of classes had gone by without much fanfare. The new additions to the snake pit found out rather quickly that the only class they were treated equally in was the potions class. Though charms class was a break from the devastating transfiguration classes with Gryffindor’s head of house, it because abundantly clear that the snakes needed to stick together for a reason. Harry was intelligent, his knack for picking up spells and facts out of thin air was only fueled by the abundance of books and readings he was given access to as a young boy. All of the Black family archives were at his disposal as well as most of the Malfoy family library.

            The dungeons were chillier than anywhere he had ever lived and his mother owled him a charmed quilt she had bought in Diagon Alley just a few days into the week. The dungeons were also slightly volatile with the old students becoming acclimated with the bunch of new first years in the room. Harry and Draco were two of the more problematic additions to the snake pit for their last names and the power and stigma attached from the first war. Despite both familial named being tinged with dark magic the Black and Malfoy name carried significant weight in the wizarding world of Britain. 

            His mother had warned him to lay low in the house of the snakes for the majority of his first year; not to make a name for himself. Her advice was merely to protect him from more powerful upperclassmen. She wanted nothing more than for him to fit in and be surrounded by the power of the rest of the house. The only issue with that was that there was one rule; there were to be no secrets in the house of snakes. So, when he had been asked of his parents, he answered honestly his mother’s name and denied the idea of having a father. His mother was now a common topic of the jeering upperclassmen. They turned their noses at him and talked down to him at every turn. They were only trying to intimidate the seemingly unafraid first year. Harry gave them credit, any other first year would have cracked by now. The others might have made a run for it to Snape but their jeering only served to irritate him.

            “If it isn’t the ickle little firsties. Having a chat are we Malfoy?” An older boy perhaps a sixth year whose family were unaligned in the first war balances on the edge of the sofa Draco and Harry re sharing. “And what have we here? Little Mister Black. How’s that insane mommy of yours?”

             Harry was a child of extraordinary patience and a temper that was not easily set off. That was especially so if the comments were directly about him. The one and seemingly only thing that made the boy’s magic flare to life in rage was anyone speaking ill about his mother. That woman was certifiably insane, yes that was true, but she was a doting mother who was incredibly loving to him. She taught him how to survive in the horrible world they lived in and gave him weapons to use in his defense.

            “Careful not everyone’s parents can plead insanity to get out of Azkaban.”

            Draco’s hand is gripping tightly to Harry’s no dominant hand and his grey eyes are darting back and forth knowingly. Harry only ever grew this quiet was he was truly and frightening angrily. Draco could already see the green of his eyes getting a tad brighter and his skin darkening just the slightest. Harry’s uncontrolled magical abilities were horrifying to witness.

            “Oh have we upset crazy Bella’s little baby?” A darker haired seventh year raises a brow at the sixth year pair who just couldn’t seem to keep their mouths shut. Marcus Flint had heard quite enough about the powerful Black lord who was only a young boy. Harion Black had made a name for himself in the darker pureblood circles for mastering spells up to seven levels above his age level. He was truly a little prodigy of magic. These two boys were asking for punishment and Marcus would do little to help them. “What are you going to do brat? Call your insane mother to come crucio us until we’re just as crazy as her?”

            The few people in the room jump up in shock when the two boys fly across the room and slam into the marbled stairwell across from the furious looking first year. Harry stood glaring darkly at the pair of boys making up the crumpled heap of body on the floor.

            Slytherin house had one other important rule. All issues within the house must be dealt with inside the dorms and interference was strictly prohibited. Of course no killing of fellow students was allowed but close calls had occurred before. More often than not fights like these occurred every year or so with little regularities. They were a fight for dominance and submission. The dominant party would garner the respect of the submissive party.   This was looking to be one of those fights.

            Harry had his eyes only set on the pair of grumbling sixth years as they tried to right themselves. His wand flies out and moves with such precision as both boys’ bodies are bound so tightly their ribs crack from the pressure. A flurry of small hexes with a lot of punch hit boy boys who end up with stinging faces swollen in several areas. Finally, Harry steps forward and stress down at them, his green eyes flashing dangerously. A child runs down the backs of a few older students as they catch sight of the magic fluttering about the small boy’s body.

            “Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” Harry’s eyes do not move from where they are focused on the two boys. His face is nearly impassive but there is a dangerous aura about him that is petrifying. “The next time any person in this house speaks ill about my mother, or the rest of my family for that matter, I will personally make you aware of how much a single spell can hurt without killing you. The Black library especially has very useful spells for things such as that. Don’t doubt I can’t cast them either, Bellatrix Lestrange is my mother after all.”

            With a flick of his wrist the ropes around the boys tighten a bit more painfully and they whine pathetically. Flint steps forward and presses a finger to both boys that fell quiet to make sure they were still alive. Everyone waits with baited breath while he checks. Harry merely returns to his seat and picks up the book he had been reading. Draco returns his head of platinum locks to Harry’s lap.

            “They’re alive.” A collective breath of relief is released throughout the room and several sets of eyes flicker to the odd assortment of completely undisturbed first years near the fire. Some had not even stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold, as if it was an everyday occurrence. “It appears as if we have another Prince since Black properly defeated Gregorys. Someone clean them up and untie them. Leave them with a few bruised ribs will you. They need some pain to remember their lesson.”

            A few of the younger years watch as several witches and wizards work at healing the pair who look positively furious.


	5. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this. I lost a little bit of inspiration and kind of took a break. Hopefully, I can pick it up again but we'll see.

            The next few weeks found the small group of first years on a basic schedule. Their system was in no way disrupted by their members seemingly odd standing in the house of the snakes. In fact, older students gave them much more of a wide birth than they had in the past. Harry was enjoying the pleasant atmosphere among the snakes as their lessons progressed despite the annoying nagging of Gryffindor students who just so happened to share their classes. Harry questioned the wit of whoever decided Slytherin and Gryffindor students should be in classes with one another when theirs’ was a rivalry unmatched in Hogwarts.

            Regardless, as Harry had expressed several times to his mother in the weeks following his arrival, he felt unchallenged by the curriculum as his latent magical abilities that had been nurtured by his mother since he was five were altogether more awakened than most of his fellow students. He could nearly wandlessly cast spells some struggled with casting normally. His professors found him a wonder though few were annoyed with his lack of listening at the beginning. Most had left him to his own devices as he read whatever tomb his mother had sent him that week from the massive libraries of the Black and Malfoy family.

            Draco had not ever been one to be bested and would read the book as soon as Harry had finished it which landed the two of them sitting rather high at the top of their year by the time Samhain was approaching. Despite this Harry had grown unusually unnerved by the defense against the dark arts professor. Quirrel was an odd sort of man who appeared perpetually frightened or simply insane at the best of times. His head was constantly wrapped in a misshapen turban and Harry had caught him on more than one occasion talking to himself in a plethora of voices. He had complained several times to his mother who appeared thoughtful and oddly wary of Harry’s description. She had passed on the advice to merely steer clear of the man for the time being.

            It was easier than he thought it to be and yet he still saw the man wandering around more than entirely necessary; especially close to the third-floor corridor that was off limits. He was no Gryffindor and certainly not foolish enough to go into the corridor unprepared. However, he had heard whispers in the halls from other houses that the first year Weasley boy had gotten some sort of hero complex and felt that he and Draco were somehow wrapped up in everything going on and were somehow in cahoots with Quirrel for some reason only Merlin knows. “What a batty git. Who would willingly work with someone like that bloody madman?” Draco, foreseeably, was not pleased with Weasley ruining his good family name. Harry had heard the other boy talk about telling his father on more than one occasion.

            “Now, now. We cannot be too rash. He’s got to have gotten the idea from someone somewhere, no?” Harry glances up at Pansy acknowledging her point briefly before returning to his book. He’d been having his mother mail them to him because all the ones he wanted to read in the library were seemingly borrowed out all the time by the bookish Gryffindor with bushy hair. Harry had also heard whispers that the others were not quite nice to her either and that had made him significantly unhappy. It was on the tip of his tongue to let it slip to Theo, whose unhealthy obsession had only grown, that there were whispers in the walls that his little Gryffindor was being treated less than pleasantly. “Probably from his siblings or hag of a mother.”

            “He’s probably one of the ones terrorizing my little lioness.”

            Harry chuckles dryly at the over exaggerated gagging noises coming from the blond-haired boy curled up on his lap. Draco had always and still does find the attraction that Theo had toward girls a bit disturbing. Though Blaise happily supplied that it was because Draco likely batted for the other team, Draco always snarked back that it was a good thing his bonding contract was with Harry and not Pansy then wasn’t it. That always made Harry glance his way and raise a brow in amusement. Draco was usually not a very outwardly affectionate person lest it involved Harry. Blaise just had the ability to get under Draco’s skin in ways that most could not because he had known them for so long.

            “You know we could always have Snape figure out what’s going on?”

            Harry definitely looks away from his book to glance at Blaise on that one. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust their head of house and potions master. It was simply that he was wary of him. He always had been. He’d learned early on that Severus Snape was a man of many secrets and that a majority of his actions were based on self-service. He did things for his own agenda and if they coincided with your own then great; if not, tough luck. The only soft spot Snape had was for his Godson, Draco, and lucky that because he did not particularly like Harry. “We can’t be hasty. I’m sure Snape already knows or has an inkling of what is going on. We’ll let him come to the conclusion himself, no?” Draco is smiling indulgently at Harry who had finally decided to add to their conversation while sitting on the floor around the fireplace. Their homework was getting finished slowly, what little they had to finish, and they were beginning to deter to more interesting subjects than a history of magic.

            Blaise raises an inquisitive eyebrow at Harry. “It certainly sounds to me that you have your own doubts or agenda here. Care to share?” Blaise was intuitive and had learned from his mother how to read people. He was the only one other than Pansy out of all the Slytherins who could call out Harry or Draco and get away with it without their heads being snipped off by Draco. At times, it could be quite irritating.

            “Nothing of the sort I assure you.” Harry closes his book because Draco had been itching to lay in his favorite spot for the last five minutes. Without fail Draco instantly falls onto Harry’s lap and nudged Harry’s fingers into his hair with a relaxes sigh. “I’ve just grown to have a healthy sense of preservation. I just want to see how things play out. Patience.”

            “Sure, preservation. It isn’t merely because you know Snape doesn’t favor you?” Pansy glances down at her nails and bites back a grin when she catches Harry glaring at her. “Of course not. You’re Mother merely taught you that you trust no one but your future bonded.”

            “Pans, I adore you and we’ve practically been raised together, but I will end you.” Harry glares sharply and for anyone else, it might have made them run for the hills. Pansy merely laughs and went back to filing her nails. “Though I am unaware of why Snape dislikes me, that has not influenced my decision.”

            “Besides, Uncle Sev doesn’t hate Harry per say he merely doesn’t like anyone.” Draco reaches forward to play with Harry’s fingers. Harry smiles indulgently at his best friend. “Except for me of course, I am a special case, after all.”

            “Special is certainly not the word I would use.”

            “Shut it, Nott.

            “But of course your highness.”


End file.
